


Catalyst

by Destina



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-16
Updated: 2003-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:02:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An episode tag to Evolution, part 2, which was written before the episode aired. Jack and Daniel deal with the aftermath of Daniel's captivity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> Written in September 2003 (because I knew the episode would not give me what I hoped for out of that rescue!). Posted to AO3 in October 2015.

Days in, weeks out; it was a saying Daniel remembered from his earliest days as an archaeologist-in-training. If the hike in took days, the hike out would seem ten times as long. Of course, in those days he hadn't had injuries to favor, hadn't been beaten and threatened and rescued in the nick of time by a friend who looked as though he'd gladly blow the entire jungle to hell and not give a flying fuck. 

He had a handgun now; Jack had brought a Beretta for him. It didn't make him feel much more secure, but it did give him options. After the events of this trip, he was all about the options. 

"How far do we have to go?" Lee asked. Daniel huffed out a laugh. He had to admire the guy; they were on the verge of collapse, but Lee was still hopeful. 

Jack gave him a cursory glance. "Hours," he said, purposefully cryptic. 

"Oh," Lee answered, and tapped Daniel's arm. "Is he always like this?" he whispered. 

"Yes." Daniel smiled. Lee's anxiety mirrored something he'd once felt himself, years ago.

One step, then another, and another, and Daniel stopped counting eventually, leaning on his stick. Heavy breath out, and a grunt; a push forward. He was making good time, really. Jack hadn't slowed down much, so that was something. 

"You okay back there?" Jack glanced at Daniel over his shoulder, but didn't stop. 

"Great. I'm...great." He went for neutral - because he couldn't get much greater without being in a nice, clean hotel bed, dead to the world. He was free, and alive, and relatively unharmed. But something in his voice achieved what his raggedy gait hadn't, because Jack slowed and turned to look at him. His scrutiny made Daniel smile, amused by what Jack must be seeing. He was ten different kinds of dirty, with a scruffy beard and clothes that needed to be burned as soon as possible. 

Jack didn't seem amused, though. He seemed...stoic. Calm. To Daniel's eye, this was a familiar expression, concealing a multitude of processes beneath. "We'll make camp soon. You look like you could use a rest."

"Jack, I just want to get the hell out of here," Daniel said. "I'll hike until I fall over, if I have to."

"Me too," Lee said, looking first at Jack, then Daniel. 

Jack ignored Lee and tapped Daniel on the stomach. "That's what I'm afraid of. You're not exactly light, you know. I don't really want to have to carry you out."

Daniel shifted his weight and leaned a little harder on his makeshift crutch. Tall brush everywhere, and trees, thick and dense. Not a good place to camp. He was certain Jack must already be thinking the same thing. Jack nodded. 

"This way." Jack set off again toward a seemingly impassible patch of lush overgrowth. Daniel smacked away a bug that was gnawing at his neck and followed, more slowly than before. Even in that short time standing still, his joints had stiffened. 

They walked for another hour or so, until Jack broke through some bushes and tangled vines and into a tiny clearing-if it could even be called that. Trees guarded a thin stream which trickled past, no more than two feet deep; a gentle incline led down to the water, and a few feet of leafy ground cover, free of bushes. "This is as good as it'll get." Jack dropped his small pack. "We'll make camp here. No fire; we don't want to attract any visitors. Just long enough for you two to wash up and grab some sleep."

"Good," Daniel said. Water had never looked so attractive to him; he eyed it with pure relief. He was filthy and smelled of sweat and mud. Dirt had crept into his pores. He grimaced at the thought of it. "Is it safe to drink?"

"I'll purify it." 

"Let me," Lee offered. He grabbed the canteens and set off upstream. 

Daniel shrugged at Jack, in response to his raised eyebrow. "He's a good man."

"He reminds me of someone," Jack said. "Can't think who." He smiled, just a tiny bit, for the first time since they'd set out on the trip back. "Give me a hand with some of this stuff."

The small campsite was set up within a few minutes. Daniel sat down on the ground and stretched out his leg with a groan. "Almost as good as a hotel," he said, and there was some truth to it. He was happy to be sitting still. He leaned back against a tree trunk. 

"It'll take most of the day, but we'll make it to the main road tomorrow." Jack sat down beside the same tree, but facing the jungle instead of the stream. 

Daniel eyed him. "Shouldn't we take shifts?"

"No." Daniel could see Jack's P-90 resting against his chest, and Jack's hand across the barrel. "I'll keep watch."

Just then, Daniel's stomach growled. Jack didn't turn his direction, but he fished in the breast pocket of his jacket and tossed something back in Daniel's direction. 

"A powerbar?" Daniel said, and tore open the wrapper with shaking hands. His stomach rolled with anticipation of the first taste. 

"You complaining?"

Daniel had a mouth full of food by then-half the bar in one bite. Once he'd swallowed that first hunk, he said softly, "It's better than bugs and stagnant water."

Jack was silent. And then he rose up on one knee and pointed the P-90 at something Daniel hadn't even heard. A few seconds later Lee appeared at the edge of the clearing, canteens outstretched like offerings. 

"Thanks," Daniel said, as he took his canteen; his face was still turned toward Jack. 

"Get some sleep. Both of you." Jack settled back, P-90 across his lap. 

Daniel didn't need to be told twice. He closed his eyes and the world dropped away. 

 

*****

When Jack woke him a few hours later, Daniel came up swinging in response to a simple touch. Jack's hand tightened on his shoulder, soothing him awake in the morning chill. He shivered beneath Jack's hand; he'd slept like the dead, while Jack had kept watch. Guilt gnawed at him, but Jack patted his shoulder, and his anxiety fell away.

They made good time, straight through the fringes of the jungle and to the main road, where Jack stowed some of their weapons in two packs. Dr. Lee volunteered to carry one; Jack took the other. Daniel had always known Jack was as good as he was where maps were concerned, but Jack didn't even seem to need his, at times. He'd tilt his head back, listening, watching the sky, and then he'd check the compass, and they'd track off in a new direction. Daniel knew the GPS must be in his pocket, but Jack wasn't bothering with it. 

From the road, it wasn't much of a trick to catch a ride with a truckload of locals, and then - almost before Daniel had time to wonder about where they'd end up - they were in front of a small hotel. 

"Colonel," Lee said--on the verge of gushing-- "I..."

"Yeah," Jack said, sparing them all from Lee's gratitude. "Let's just get inside, okay? I could use a nap."

"Yes, sir," Lee said vigorously. "And dinner!"

Daniel chuckled. "Something other than leaves or bugs," he said, catching Jack's eye. 

"Or powerbars," Jack agreed. 

At the front desk, Jack picked up two keys and handed one of them to Lee. Daniel trailed Jack up to a second floor room, the room they would share. A ceiling fan circled slowly in the humid air. There were two small beds. A carry-on took up all the room on top of an ancient dresser. 

Enclosed in the small space, Daniel could smell himself. He wrinkled his nose. "Shower," he said. 

"Definitely." Jack sat down on the bed and flipped open his cell phone. "Got to report in; I'm overdue."

A thought occurred to Daniel as he watched Jack dial. He frowned. "This was an officially sanctioned rescue, wasn't it?"

"More or less," Jack said. "George gave me the weapons; I found the connections. Doesn't matter how."

"Yes, it does." 

Jack opened his mouth as though he'd intended to answer, but instead, he said into the phone, "O'Neill for General Hammond."

Daniel hesitated for a moment, then decided he didn't want to hear this particular conversation. He left the bathroom door open a few inches. He'd had enough of small, enclosed spaces, and the barrier would have made Jack seem too far away.

Blue tile, and lots of it; Daniel wasn't expecting such a modern bathroom in such a run-down, local-flavor hotel, but he was far past the stage of either appreciation or complaint. He shucked off his filthy shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and stepped into the shower. There were layers upon layers of dirt to wash away, and the stink had crept into his pores. He picked up Jack's soap and started scrubbing until the caked-on dirt peeled away, revealing the shadows beneath. He caught his breath; the bruises were fresh, vivid, like new wounds. 

He was using more than his share of water, but he couldn't bring himself to move away from the hot spray until he started to prune. He used Jack's shampoo and wore the soap down to a tiny nub. He shaved in the shower, without benefit of a mirror. It was a trick he'd learned on his first dig, years ago. 

Four days of hiking, and now they were in a hotel, and Daniel was shivering, freezing cold beneath the hot water. He was unable to move, unwilling to abandon the warmth and comfort of the water.

"Hey. You alive in there?" Jack's voice drifted in from the other room, deceptively casual. 

"I'm fine," Daniel said automatically, rousing himself. He wondered how long he'd been in the shower. Thick steam had filled the bathroom, even with the door open. 

"Don't tell me you used all the hot water," Jack said; he was closer to the open door now. 

"No," said Daniel, and switched off the water. He pressed one hand to the cool tile and leaned there a moment, regaining his bearings. After a minute or so, he heard Jack's voice from a distance, and intermittent silences. He was still talking on the phone, then. 

Daniel climbed out of the shower and toweled off, scrubbing at his skin until he felt raw, with gentle attention to his leg wound. He wiped the mirror with the edge of the towel and stared at himself. Hollows beneath his eyes, tiny nicks from the razor, bruises and cuts from the beatings. He was a mess. No wonder Jack had eyed him with such doubt when he'd insisted he could walk out, no problem. Even Lee had given him a dubious look. But they'd made good time, and he'd held his own. Like always. 

He kicked his discarded pants and shirt into the corner behind the toilet and wrapped the towel around his waist, then limped out into the room, scanning for Jack. The room was hot, even with the ceiling fan rotating at a crawl overhead, and Jack was standing beneath it, pulling items from the suitcase. Daniel recognized the fabrics: one of Daniel's shirts, from his locker at the SGC, and a pair of pants. Jack's fingers smoothed the fabric as he dropped the items on the lime green bedspread. 

A terrible longing broke over Daniel as he watched Jack touching the clothes Daniel had worn dozens of times, as Jack's fingers pressed the wrinkles from them. "I wondered if I'd find you alive," Jack said, almost conversationally, without turning to face him. He was stripped down to his black t-shirt and briefs; his feet were bare. 

"Not the first time," Daniel said. 

"No." Jack sat down on the bed and pulled one of Daniel's shirts into his lap. His fingers traced the patterns across its surface. Daniel followed the motion of his hands, across and down, in circles, hypnotic and alluring. 

"You're the one who taught me, by example," Daniel said, as he leaned against the bathroom door. "Calculated risk. The greater good. I hoped you'd come, but..."

"Yeah." Jack was silent for a moment, and the motion of his fingers slowed, and finally stopped. "Hammond's sending transportation for us." 

"Is the general angry?"

"No."

"Would you have come for me, if he'd ordered you not to?"

"What do you think?"

Daniel chuckled. "That's why I asked if Hammond was angry." 

Jack looked up, then, and the hair on the back of Daniel's neck rose at the raw, unconcealed focus in Jack's eyes. On a hundred worlds they'd looked out for each other - one of them preoccupied by the possibility of danger while the other slept or worked. But this was different; Jack's eyes were on him, seeing everything. 

Jack's stare moved first to the giant bruise on Daniel's chest. A round bruise, with speckled, uneven edges, six or seven inches across. A fist had dropped there five or six times in quick succession. Daniel watched Jack watching him, and his hands went to his sides. Jack took in the scratches on his arms, the mottled bumps and bloody patches.

Daniel shivered when Jack's gaze passed across his face, over the fading bruises there. Jack's eyes tracked lower, and lower, and Daniel made no attempt to hide the damage done to him. Too late for that. Jack looked for a very long time, then met Daniel's eyes. 

Daniel's hand moved automatically, to rest on his stomach. All Jack's walls had dropped away, shutters open, everything revealed. Anger, but not for Daniel. Pain. A glimpse of desire, raw at the edges and tinged with grief. Daniel stood steady under his scrutiny, until Jack tossed aside the shirt in his lap and went to Daniel. He traced the bruise on Daniel's chest with slow fingers. "They tortured you."

"I'll live."

Jack's eyes were dark. Daniel was drowning beneath the pressure of his attention. Jack gently covered the bruise on Daniel's chest with his open hand. Daniel curled his fingers around Jack's and held him there a moment longer...until his stomach growled like a caged animal, and they both chuckled. 

"Shower, then dinner," Jack said, tugging off his t-shirt with one hand. He disappeared behind the half-open bathroom door. 

Daniel's leg was aching from the hike and his joints were already stiff. He rummaged through the contents of the suitcase, looking for pain relievers. Jack rarely traveled without them anymore, though he never actually took them. Fraiser had long held to the hope that Jack would prove less stubborn as he got older, but Daniel wasn't holding his breath. 

He took his search into the bathroom. Jack's dopp kit was on the counter and sure enough, there was a bottle of ibuprofen inside. Daniel tossed back four with a handful of water from the sink faucet. 

"Daniel?" Above the sounds of water, Jack's voice, questioning. 

"Sorry," Daniel called. "I was looking for some aspirin. Found it."

Jack didn't answer. No jokes, no sarcasm. Daniel frowned. "Jack?" He pulled back the corner of the shower curtain and peeked in. 

Jack's hands were on the cool tile; his head was down, and water cascaded across his neck and back. He didn't acknowledge Daniel's intrusion. "Jack," Daniel said again, and reached out to touch him. 

Jack jerked away, but didn't look up. "I'll be out in a minute," he said, in a low voice, and his tone should have been a warning, but Daniel was long past caring about those kinds of subtle alarms. Instead, he dropped his towel and stepped into the wide shower, and slipped his arms around Jack. Jack's body was tight as a wire, knotted and hard and tense, and he resisted Daniel's embrace. 

"Hey," Daniel murmured, tugging him back. Finally, Jack pushed away from the wall and let Daniel hold him. His head tilted back and Daniel kissed him, just beneath his ear, where the taste of clean water and soap was strong. Jack turned in his arms and met his eyes, and the depth of fatigue Daniel saw there matched his own. 

Daniel turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He handed Jack a clean towel and waited until he'd dried off, then snatched the towel and wiped down again. Even now, he would swear the stench of the small hut was still clinging to him. He sniffed himself. "Two showers still aren't enough," he said, when Jack raised an eyebrow in his direction. 

No more reason to waste time; Daniel reached out for Jack, caught his dogtags and closed them in his fist. Jack stepped closer, or Daniel pulled him closer - it no longer mattered which; it hadn't mattered for many years. Jack's lips were a breath away from Daniel's, and then his hand closed around the back of Daniel's neck and they were kissing-long, deep, glorious kisses. 

Jack slid one arm around Daniel's shoulders and the other around his waist, and held him tightly. Daniel rested his face against Jack's shoulder, comfortable in that familiar place, and hugged Jack in return. This was familiar, too, but not the fast beat of Jack's heart, or the aching sense of almost-death that still clung to him like the scent of a waking nightmare. 

The warmth from Jack's body was like a furnace. Daniel traced the tense muscles of Jack's back with his fingertips. He lifted his head and nuzzled into Jack's neck; Jack smelled of soap and worry. "You need food, and some sleep," Daniel said softly. 

Jack pulled back and ran a hand through Daniel's wet hair, then released him. "Not yet," he said. 

They settled down on one of the two beds, side by side, Daniel on his back and Jack propped up on one elbow. Jack became absorbed in tracing the marks on Daniel's body; the light touches made him warm with wanting. Daniel closed his eyes. "Tell me," he said. 

"They wouldn't have paid ransom for you." Such a cold statement, and yet beneath it, all the reasons they were here together. 

"I didn't expect them to," Daniel said. He smiled. "Even so, everyone's worth something to somebody."

Jack's lips touched his, confirming his value, and he opened gladly to the kiss. Jack covered Daniel's body with his own and they moved together, slow glide of skin across skin. So familiar, and so necessary. His hands spanned the small of Jack's back, urging him closer, and Jack gasped his approval. Daniel carefully parted his legs so Jack could move between them, ignoring the throbbing ache in his leg, and caught his breath when Jack's cock brushed his own. "There," he whispered, and Jack obeyed; the delicious friction made Daniel moan low in his throat. His hands moved lower, curved to the shape of Jack's ass, and he arched beneath Jack's kisses. 

Jack shifted sideways and his left hand covered Daniel's cock, moving fast, expertly, a rhythm completely apart from the deep, devouring kisses. Daniel tilted his head back; Jack deepened the kiss, slow strokes of his tongue against Daniel's as his hand moved, faster, and faster still. Relief and desire mingled in each touch, rolled into one fluid sensation, and Daniel was being pulled under by the strength of the tide. 

Jack tangled his fingers in Daniel's hair and tugged, opening Daniel to his kiss, to the devouring, relentless press of his lips. The rush of connection was electric. He could feel Jack touching him everywhere, lips, skin, straight down to the inside of his heart.

Too soon, Jack growled into the side of his neck and came, body tense at first, and then still. Daniel smiled and raised his hips languidly, still seeking contact; Jack slid down his body and, after a moment's hesitation, licked Daniel's cock from root to tip. Daniel bit his lip to keep the shout from escaping just as Jack's mouth closed around him, sucking hard, tongue and teeth working him, and he was over the edge in the space of a heartbeat. 

Jack kissed his hipbone, then his belly; Daniel felt it from a thousand miles away, through the haze of orgasm. "So we're done talking, I guess," Daniel said, chuckling, as Jack stretched out beside him. 

Instead of answering, Jack gently probed at the wound on Daniel's leg. Daniel swatted him away. 

"I didn't hurt you?"

"Not until just now." 

"Fraiser's going to put you on stand-down."

"More time for me to sleep," Daniel said. "Actually, that sounds...really good."

Jack smiled at him in a way guaranteed to make Daniel's heart stop. He rolled on his side and said, "Wake me when you're ready for dinner." 

Daniel considered that, then curled up against Jack's body, pulling him closer. Sleep was already stinging his eyes, drawing him down; it had all the allure of a five-course dinner, and was more appealing than leaving the room. Jack settled back against his chest, and Daniel let himself fall away.


End file.
